


Prize Piggie

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Belts, Car Sex, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Glove Kink, Gunplay, Light Knifeplay, Masochism, Misogyny, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up, Reader-Insert, Sadism, Spanking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: Harley keeps pissing Joker off in her quest to become a supervillain after their breakup, so he needs to blow off some steam.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Prize Piggie

**Author's Note:**

> This is written in line with The Harley Quinn Show's canon: Harley dumped Joker, they're rivals now, etc. But I changed his characterization a little more to a scarier, moodier Joker instead of the lighthearted and comedic one in the show.

The sound of breaking glass and an enraged scream echoed through the headquarters. You cringed, pausing to listen to the following gunshots before resuming your task at hand: packing acid bombs. The bored henchman who sat across from you swirled his drink and sneered, obviously dissatisfied that you were allowing yourself to be distracted by your Master’s tantrum.

“Keep workin’, bitch,” he huffed, downing the rest of his scotch and tapping a meaty finger on the trigger guard of the automatic rifle lazily slung across his chest. “Joker don’t pay you to take breaks.”

Remembering the bruises from your last punishment, you bit your tongue to keep from backtalking the brutish man and instead fixed a concerned smile across your face.

“I’m so sorry, but...I’m just worried. He’s never been like this before. Is it...y’know?” You dared not address the elephant in the room: the fact that Joker had broken up with his long-haul girlfriend, Harley Quinn. Well,  _ he  _ said he’d done the dumping, but it was painfully obvious from his diabolical mood that it was really Harley who had initiated the breakup. However, nobody who wanted to keep their brains safely housed in their skull would ever say that out loud.

The guard scowled and clenched his jaw, sitting forward in his seat and baring his yellow teeth.

_ “One more word and you’ll be pushin’ daisies.” _

“Yessir,” you obeyed, quickly returning to your job. You still had three crates of these stupid things to prep and the idea of having to stay overnight again sent a frigid shiver down your spine. This place was creepy enough in the daytime, but when the sun went down you were genuinely petrified of venturing out of this room without a guard. Too many cold hands in the dark had groped at you even WITH an escort; who knew what would happen to you if a guard decided to look the other way because you pissed him off.

No sooner had you finished three bombs than there was a crackle on the guard’s walkie. There was a moment of static before the cold, unctuous voice of Jonny Frost broke through.

_ “Every woman in the compound report to Joker’s den, over.” _

Your guard looked just as surprised as you felt. He blinked at you and shrugged, then lurched up off of the chair and gestured to the door with the tip of his gun.

“Well, orders are orders. C’mon then, missy.”

A nauseating mix of fear and awe bubbled up inside you as you were led out of the room and past the other bomb packing cells. Logically, there were only two reasons The Joker would be “inspecting” all the females in his workforce: to pick someone to satisfy his desires if he couldn't find a suitable sex worker for the night, or to run auditions to find a replacement for Ms. Quinn. But finding a suitable replacement for the Master’s queen would be no small feat, and you sure as hell weren’t in Harley’s league, in your own biased opinion.

A quick glance behind you revealed three other women who were also on their way to the den. One looked like a cook, the other another worker, and the third looked like an assassin who’d just so happened to be in the building when the request had been made. She didn’t look nervous like you and the others did, and it struck you that as a mercenary she’d likely already met Joker face to face before. His vetting process for mercs was...personal, to say the least.

Before you knew it, you were standing outside a massive set of doors. The guard stopped you before pulling one of them open with a grunt and waiting for you to move. Unfortunately for you, your feet were glued fast to the ground and all the strength had fled from your shaking legs. Impatience began coloring his face and you willed yourself to step forward. You advanced robotically, shuffling one foot in front of the other and nearly toppling over when the merc woman rolled her eyes and shoved past you.

Christ, the den was  _ huge.  _ The ceiling arched up into black shadows and the room itself was easily ten times the size of your small apartment. A gruff voice echoed through the spacey room and jolted you to your senses. The women were lining up into two neat rows so you settled yourself in the back row and huddled down, trying to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible. Your view was partially obscured by the darkness and the women standing in front of you, but for a moment you caught a glimpse of a deathly pale hand as it slipped up and ran itself through dark green hair. Heart thudding in your chest and stomach sinking down into the floor, you averted your eyes to the ground and waited.

After what seemed an eternity, you heard footsteps and a low chuckle. Joker had come forward and was surveying his captives (although more than a few of said captives were looking at him with expressions of eager adoration); you heard his voice clearly for the first time as he dismissed the assassin to her job. You allowed your eyes to wander in his direction and you caught a flash of silver as he played with a handgun; twirling and pointing it as if it were a toy. Just then, a third possibility struck you and froze your blood in your veins:  _ what if you’d all been collected to die?  _ Perhaps Joker had decided that what he needed was a little catharsis. If he couldn’t get to Harley, the next best thing was a massacre of other women.

Joker tutted. He rubbed his chin and shook his head, leaning in close to study each woman. He prodded them like cattle and hummed out his disappointment or approval, but he was now four women in and he hadn’t shot anyone (yet). You silently prayed that he would find someone he liked in the first row so he wouldn’t see you, but all too soon he was moving onto the second row with an agitated growl. He paused in front of a woman with pink hair and cocked his head, giving her a dazzling smile before reaching out to grip her chin and pull it down.

“You’re a pretty one,” he remarked. “But let’s see if you squeal like the rest of the weaklings.”

And with that he crammed the gun into her mouth, bursting into a full-bellied laugh when she began to cry. He cocked the weapon and leaned in close, a cheshire cat grin stretching across his striking face.

“And this little piggy cried WEE, WEE, WEE all the way home!” he hissed, pulling the gun away and firing it just above her head, low enough to singe the top of her hair. His mood whiplashed in an instant when she let out a terrified screech; his thin hand shot out to grab her around the throat and launch her backwards.

“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, PIGGIE, OR I’M HAVING BACON FOR BREAKFAST!”

The woman bolted for the door and Joker watched with narrowed eyes before flicking his gaze over to the next woman. He was impatient now and skimmed over the row faster than he had the first. He was inching closer, and closer, until you could smell him when he stopped at the woman next to you. His scent was expensive; probably Tom Ford or Creed Aventus, which you were only familiar with because you’d spent most of your adult life waitressing at a top dollar bar in the underbelly of Gotham, serving dinners fit for kings to the crime lords and pimps that ran this city.

Your breath caught in your throat when Joker sidled over to you, at long last. You didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye so instead you stared at his lapel and hoped it didn’t look like you were about to puke all over him.

“Come on, doll, don’t be shy, my eyes are up here,” he teased. He reached out and lifted your chin until your gaze met his; you gulped and he grinned when he felt the movement.  _ God  _ he was a beautiful man, in his own grunge way. His hand slipped down your throat and over your décolletage, touching you far more gently than you would’ve expected from a man like him. His eyes met yours again and he smirked.

_ SMACK! _

He’d backhanded you across the cheek so fast that you’d barely even registered him moving. It sent you stumbling and nearly made you lose your footing. Joker exploded into a series of gleeful chuckles as you careened away from him. Your cheek had burst open against your teeth; blood flushed across your tongue and out of your parted lips, dribbling down your chin and lower over your throat. It hurt like hell but it wasn’t like you hadn’t been smacked before, so you quickly righted yourself and hurried back to your spot. Truth be told, you were something of a masochist yourself, so the unexpected blow had served to excite you as well as scare you.

And Joker could tell.

“Well, well...looks like this little piggy can take a  _ beating,”  _ he cooed, reaching out to smear the blood down across your cheek. “I like that in a woman, almost as much as I like the ability to behead a man in one  _ cleeeeeaaaan _ sweep.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“You got a gag reflex, darling?”

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed. He furrowed his brows then shrugged, turning on his heel and waving for you to follow him.

“I suppose that can be fixed, after all, nobody’s perfect,” he sighed. “Except me,” he added with a chilling laugh. His long legs carried him away faster than you could keep up but you tried your best, fearful of what would happen if he got annoyed with you. He hummed to himself as he led you down various corridors until you were finally standing outside an expensive-looking door that had jewels embedded in it. He slipped a hand into his pocket and produced a key which he shoved into the lock after giving you a wink.

“Ladies first,” he said, before giving you a mock bow and encouraging you to enter with a sweep of his arm. You hesitantly obeyed and were no sooner through the door than his hand came down on your ass and forced you to stumble forward into the five star room. You tripped but quickly righted yourself, eyes darting about to take in your surroundings. Everything was plush and silken; even the carpet beneath your feet was soft enough to sleep on. An extensive collection of stuffed animals and shoes lined the back wall; they must've been Harley's. Of course Joker would withhold everything from her out of spite for daring to leave him.

“I do hope you like it, darling, I never cut corners when I send my crew to rob the department stores,” he simpered as he swept past you up multiple steps to finally stop at the massive bed, which was elevated on a high dais. 

“It’s lovely,” you agreed, voice thick with anxiety and excitement. Joker watched you for an unsettling few seconds before grinning and reaching out his hand.

“Come now, bunny, Daddy hasn’t got all day.”

You advanced up the steps and took his hand. Without warning he yanked you forward by the arm, lifting it up to his lips to drag his slick tongue all the way from the back of your hand to the inside of your elbow. He groaned and the sexually charged noise went straight down between your legs. Your knees weakened, barely holding you up while he suckled a painful love bite into the tender skin of your inner arm. Just when you were about to cry out in pain he pulled away and leaned forward, hooking his strong chin over your shoulder and turning his head until his warm, surprisingly pleasant breath flooded over your ear.

_ “You taste absolutely marvelous, doll face.” _

You heard a soft click but didn’t register what it was until the switchblade was slicing cleanly up through your shirt and between the cups of your bra, laying you bare before him. He stepped back to admire you and practically purred, his shrewd eyes narrowing as they took in your breasts and the way your nipples were tightening in the cool, slightly dank air of the bedroom.

“Gorgeous,” he growled. “Get the rest off and get on the bed.”

With shaking hands you did as you were told, all the while mourning the loss of the bra and shirt. Ever since you’d been put on probationary grunt work thanks to your fuck up at the bar a few months ago, money was just too tight to replace anything. Hell, you could barely afford to eat one meal a day. But if you did well, it would all be over soon. And maybe, just maybe, if you pleased him tonight, he’d find it in his black heart to be a little generous.

When you were finally naked you sat on the bed and waited while he pulled off his dress jacket. He moved up to stand in front of you and slipped a hand behind your head. You stared at his bulge and licked your lips before glancing up at him.

“Go on, piggie,” he drawled, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand up to his zipper. You paused again and he snickered, a wicked look flashing across his angular face when he sensed your anxiety. “Oh don’t tell me you’re a  _ virgin!" _

“It's not that, sir, I’m just...it’s not every day a girl gets to fuck  _ The Joker.  _ I’m nervous.”

“Well make it good and you might just get the honor again. But I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he said, gyrating his hips with a dirty sneer.

You pulled on the zipper to find satin briefs hidden away beneath. A hint of bone white skin peeked out at you from the slit in the fabric; Joker sighed in satisfaction at having his erection released from the confines of his pants. You slipped a finger up to hook it into the briefs and pull the slit open. His cock pushed out and stood tall before you, bobbing slightly as he clenched his pelvic muscles to keep from swaying forwards and losing his balance. He was  _ big,  _ likely bigger than any other cock you’d seen in real life, and his shaft was pleasantly veiny. But what really caught your eye was the Prince Albert at the tip, already shiny with precum as the clear fluid leaked out of him and betrayed the level of his arousal. His hand suddenly tightened in your hair and he pushed your face forward until the cold metal of the piercing was rubbing against your lips.

_ “You won’t like it if I have to MAKE you open up,”  _ he threatened, brandishing the switchblade and sinking the tip into the corner of your frozen mouth. His voice had a deadly edge now and his trim yet sharp nails were digging into your scalp hard enough to draw blood.

Warily, you flicked your tongue out to tease the Prince Albert and were rewarded with a pleased hiss.

“Play with my balls, like a good girl,” he instructed as you eased the head into your mouth, careful not to catch the wide ridge of his corona on your front teeth and trying to ignore the sharp sting of your injured cheek as you stretched wide for him. You obediently pulled his balls out of the briefs and set a rhythm, stroking one hand at a time down the sac, experimentally tugging and gradually stretching them, eventually coaxing a shudder out of him.

“Fuckkkkk,” he gritted out. He let you continue for a while before he decided to push on your head until his cock was choking you, forcing you to cough and gag and squirm in a vain attempt to escape his cruel grip. He held you there until your belly clenched and heaved then mercifully pulled away before you vomited; he laughed again upon seeing the tears coursing down your face and ruining your makeup.

“Mmmmmm what would your mommy say if she saw her little girl choking on your Master’s cock? Hm? Or your pops? Oh how he’d  _ cry  _ at seeing his baby become a disgusting whore. That’s all you women are: whores and sluts. But it’s all right, cuz there’s room for all the misfits in  _ my  _ Gotham, so long as they stay out of my way.”

He patted your cheek and chuckled before splaying his hand across your chest and shoving you backwards.

“Roll over,” he commanded, smiling a smug little smile to himself when you instantly obeyed. “Spread those smooooooth legs for me and just relax, doll.”

You felt the fabric of his pants tickle the insides of your thighs as you let him position you until you were hanging off the edge of the bed, bent at the waist and waiting with baited breath for the pain that you knew was coming. Sure enough, his hand came down on your ass with enough force to knock the breath out of your lungs. Then it came down again, and  _ again,  _ until you couldn’t help the tears and the small cries that escaped your trembling lips. He wasn’t just spanking you, he was  _ beating  _ you, as if he had some personal vendetta against you.

“Beg me to stop,” he growled, raking his nails down your back with enough pressure to draw blood. “BEG!!”

“PLEASE, STOP!” you cried, howling in pain when his blows only became more intense. “PLEASE!!!” He burst into a fit of screaming laughter and you heard his belt clink, causing an involuntary cringe.

The first whip was the worst. It lit up your abused skin like lightning and it was everything you could do to keep yourself from scrambling away to escape the pain. But the second and the third mellowed as your body adjusted, and you found yourself pushing back against him, eager for his cock. He paused the whipping and moaned low in his throat, obviously thrown off by your ability to take his sadism. 

“Can you do Daddy a favor, doll?” he whispered, stroking the belt across your stinging ass. “Call me Puddin’ when I fuck you.”

You nodded to signal your obedience. He paused, seeming to have an internal struggle before ending the foreplay early. After tossing the whip away he lunged forward, placing himself between your legs and leaning forward to place his pale hands on either side of your shoulders.

_ “It’s been too long,”  _ he hissed, and you knew he meant too long since he’d fucked Harley. It must be so frustrating to have lost the one person who could satisfy his every sexual desire so well, even if she was useless to him emotionally. A constant thorn in his side and an insatiable itch that demanded to be scratched. You found yourself hoping that you could at least get closer to perfection than the others had, even if you were no Harley Quinn.

He pressed into you without warning and your heart nearly stopped when you felt his breath go ragged.

_ “Fuck, Harls,”  _ he panted, pausing to pull himself together so he didn’t spill too fast. The flat plane of his groin rubbed against your bloody, bruised ass, which set off new waves of pleasure that became overwhelming the deeper his cock was pushed.

“Fuck me, Puddin’,” you begged, digging your fingers into the silky green sheets of the bed beneath you. “I need you to cum inside me.”

Joker groaned and snapped his hips backwards, then thrusted back in with a grunt.

“You’re so perfect for me, doll face,” he crooned behind you. His thrusts had taken on a desperate edge now and he was fucking you too fast, neither of you would last long if he kept it up. “My sweet little pumpkin pie…”

His gruff voice dissolved into needy panting as he neared his climax. Normally, you’d need some clit stim to get you to your own peak, but this experience was so perfect that you were already teetering on the precipice of your own orgasm. He felt you pulse and only doubled his efforts, rocking you across the mattress like the madman he was as your whole body tensed.

_ “Ohhh, PUDDIN’!!!!”  _ you screamed, clenching down hard on his cock and writhing from the intensity of the climax. It felt so good it was almost painful, and from the sounds of it Joker was about to experience something similar.

“Computer,” he gasped; there was an electronic beep of confirmation. “Show me Harley, Gallery 6, October 31st!”

A massive hologram flickered to life across from you to reveal a photo of Harley in a slutty nurse costume, obviously in the throes of an orgasm with Joker’s hands digging into her soft hips, pinning her down onto his cock so he could overstimulate her. Joker grunted and swore under his breath, then his voice rose into a higher pitched groan as he slowed enough for you to feel his cock twitch.

_ “HARLSSSS!”  _ he yelled, bucking into you and breaking into a crescendo of giggles which then morphed into bellows of throaty laughter. He collapsed against you, crushing you under his weight as he rode out the laughter and finally fell silent except for wheezing attempts to catch his breath.

After a few long moments he pulled away and stood, allowing you to roll over and look at him. He was sweaty, his green hair had fallen out of its gelled style, and his exaggerated red lipstick had smeared only to reveal equally red lips beneath. He looked over at you and grinned, but the smile looked a little forced.

“You did good, bunny. You want dinner? Some takeout? I know a  _ killer  _ little ramen spot,” he said, grin widening. “No really, more than a few cops have dropped dead after eating there, courtesy of my little chef henchman,” he cackled. He checked his tie in the mirror of his vanity and pulled his jacket back on before turning back to you. “Oh and there’s no need to get dressed, I think the boys would  _ quite  _ appreciate the view, and tinted windows are always a must.”

He held out his hand and you took it; after all, it’s not like you had a choice. But in a weird way, you did want this, because to be Joker’s Queen was an honor rarely bestowed. Even if it was only for one night.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will contain car sex, gratuitous fingering, a hell of a lot more gunplay, and honestly who knows what else tbh 🤔
> 
> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! <3


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